Rescue Mission
by Higurazel
Summary: At a private manor in western France during the winter of 1750, a powerful but enigmatic man holds a party. An impulsive youth decides to crash it to save a friend. Warnings of: AU, Excessive Harpsichords


_20 miles South of Bordeaux_

_1st of December 1750_

The pane of glass gave way beneath straining palms and the window opened just wide enough for Joseph to crawl through. With an undignified noise he crashed into the stone floor, raising his arms just in time to save himself from landing on his face. The young man quickly surveyed his surroundings, breathing a loud, ragged sigh of relief as he realised he was alone. The particular bathroom that he had chosen to sneak his way into was on one of the furthest sections of the manor, meaning it was unlikely that any party guests would be here to bother him. He picked himself up off the ground and dusted off his coat.

The coat itself was a long, overly-complicated affair, with lace and braiding attached at seemingly every available location. The bright blue of the frock, as well the white and gold trim didn't exactly strike Joseph as the sort of clothing for a stealthy rescue attempt, but his associate Tristan had sworn by it. He'd told Joseph to "Hide in Plain Sight" by wearing an outfit just as ridiculous as the guests that usually frequented these sorts of gatherings. If it had been down to Joseph, he would have made sure to wear something simple, something light. Most importantly, something he could fight in. Attempting to fight his way to safety in this... monstrosity would be beyond challenging.

He reached into the frock, pulling out the small, dark blue mask that would make up the rest of his disguise.

"I hope you know what you're talking about, Tristan," He whispered, slipping the mask on and stepping out into the hallway. Before he'd even had a chance to close the door behind him, the flagrant shows of wealth and excess that seemed to hold the building together struck his senses. Rather than standing in a corridor stretching off into the heart of the enormous house, Joseph found himself on a balcony overlooking a vast ballroom, packed with slowly swirling masked couples. The balcony itself stretched off into the distance, following the curves of the huge hall beneath and creating a semi-circle for observers who wanted to take a break from dancing. Massive pillars of marble, coated with golden ivy, pushed their way from the ground to hold up the high ceiling, creating the sensation of an ancient temple.

A crystal chandelier hung suspended by four thick chains, swaying gently in an unfelt breeze, almost as though it too were dancing softly to the spectral tones of a harpsichord hidden somewhere on the level below. Above the chandelier, a glass dome looked out onto the night sky, showcasing a cold and cloudless night. Joseph found himself sighing again. These nobles really had more money than they knew what to do with. He took a step forward to get a better view of the guests, trying to spot one figure out of the crowd. He rested his hands on the railing around the balcony, almost recoiling as he felt the rough texture of scales. looking down he saw that the entire railing was carved to resemble a snake, twisting around and surrounding the main hall in its coils. Joseph's eyes followed the railing, down the spiral staircase at the end of the balcony, around a few pillars and towards the head of the room, culminating in a stylised carving of a snakes head devouring its own tail. Beneath it, sat the host.

Joseph hadn't heard much about the man who's party he would be crashing. There were plenty of rumours, sure, but no solid information. A successful banker, a wealthy industrialist, heir to a fortune that most noble families could only dream of. The only thing the rumours could agree on was that this "Dartz" character was... a little eccentric. He liked to keep a mystique about him, and few people rarely saw him out and about. Any time he wished to do business, he would do so through one of his lackeys, a group of three young men that were said to be fanatically loyal to their master. Beyond that, the stories went into the realms of the dark and, frankly, disturbing. To deal with these men was bad news, and that was exactly why he was here, to stop his friend from falling into that pit.

As Joseph locked his eyes on the teal-haired man that sat beneath the snake head, he felt an unmistakeable dread. With a shudder, he pulled himself away from the railing and made for the stairs. He wasn't here to investigate rumours. He was here to get Mai back. He took the stairs two at a time, unconciously picking up his pace in time with the music that was gradually speeding up. Working towards a crescendo, the dancers drifting about Joseph and threatening to drown him in an ocean of twirling lace and velvet, black masks and feathered hats. As he negotiated his way through the crowd, Joseph was suddenly very glad that Tristan hadn't talked him into wearing a hat.

He caught a glimpse of her, just for a moment. Her back to him, her thick blond hair unmistakable, the scent of her perfume acting almost like a beacon across the tides of dancers. Before he could get close enough to confirm it truly was Mai, another young woman stepped out in front of him, taking his hand and saying something in French. Joseph tried to go with the flow, stepping around the girl whilst still holding her hand, making a cross between dancing with her and continuing on his way. He'd learned a few key phrases in the loca language to keep up appearances and stop him from being caught, but none of them were jumping to his mind right now, he was too lost in the urgency of the moment.

He let go of the girls hand, reaching out and placing it on the shoulder of the woman he had been tracking. He felt her tense up for the slightest moment, and then heard her sigh. It was a well-humoured sound and as Mai turned to face him, he could see she was trying to conceal a smile.

"Joseph Wheeler," She said, a reprimanding tone to her voice, "Didn't expect you to make such a... subtle entrance." Her eyes, surrounded by a purple domino mask, scanned up and down him, instantly making him feel a little under an inch tall. "Nice coat," She said at last.

"Not my idea," He admitted, trying to keep his eyes fixed on hers, and not on the dark purple dress she wore. What little of it there was _to _wear. "I'm going to get you out of here."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Even behind the mask, Mai's entire face was a picture of confusion. Joey quickly placed one hand on hers and another at her side, feigning a dance as best he could.

"You're falling in with a pretty bad crowd here," He whispered, apologising quickly as he stood on Mai's foot, then on the foot of a passing stranger. "There's plenty of stories about that Dartz and his cronies. Thought you might need a hand-"

"Need a hand? I'm enjoying a perfectly nice party and you come to save me from it!" Mai's hand was on the verge of crushing Joseph's, irritation rising in her voice. "That's just typical. When I need you around, you're nowhere to be seen. As soon as I start enjoying myself again, you drop in out of the blue to ruin things."

"Need me around? Mai, what are you talking about?"

Before she could answer, the pair were interrupted by a gloved hand slapping down on Joseph's shoulder, gripping firmly.

"Is there a little trouble here?". A man's voice. Joseph turned his head to see a man of about his own age, deep blue eyes and a thick shock of brown hair. He wore no mask and a functional red jacket, perhaps military in origin. One of Dartz's men.

"No trouble at all," Mai said, the irritation was now almost visible as it spilled past her lips. "Valon, this is Joseph wheeler, an old... Aquaintance of mine."

Joseph flinched at that word, freezing in place. He turned partway back to looking at Mai, but found he couldn't bring himself to do it. His hold on her loosened and she drifted away, feigning a dance with Valon now as they shared a hurried conversation. Joseph stayed in the same spot, staring into nowhere, oblivious to the crowd as they returned to their swirling dance. Acquaintance? He was an old _acquaintance_? That had hurt. It had hurt a lot. He swallowed, clenching his fists and turning back to the stairs, making his way up at a snail's pace. Maybe it would be better if he left. There was no real evidence behind those rumours after all, and Mai hadn't seemed concerned about things here. Plus... He was just an old acquaintance...

"On the other hand," He said out loud with a grin, turning back to the dance floor.

Valon didn't have much time to react to the punch. By the time he had turned around to see who was tapping him on the shoulder, the fist was already in motion, connecting with his jaw at Joseph's trademark speed. The young man dropped to the ground, propping himself up on his elbows and wiping a thin trail of blood from his opened lip. The dancer's had stopped, finding that watching this altercation as it unfolded to be a much more enjoyable way to pass the time. Joseph's blood was pounding throughout his body, thumping in his ears, adrenaline filling him. It was just like the good old days. He barely noticed as Valon launched forward from the ground, his foot swinging past Joseph and pressing against his coat, where it slammed to the floor. The tug on the bright blue frock knocked the would-be hero on his back, smashing the back of his head on the stone and tearing the breath from his body.

Joseph's vision swam, blurring and clearing, blurring and clearing in an endless cycle. He saw as the dancers surrounded him, grind plastered over their faces. Valon now on his feet and rubbing his knuckles, smiling wickedly in anticipation should his opponent get back up.

Before falling into unconsciousness, a single thought ran through Joseph's mind.

Really, _really _should have warn something simpler.


End file.
